


Reddie Week 2020

by Routinedepression



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, Multi, Mutual Pining, Reddie Week 2020, Swearing, The Quarry (IT), and they were ROOMMATES, like a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26194150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Routinedepression/pseuds/Routinedepression
Summary: Inspired by @dibujosdelrio and @lisbetuuu on Instagram. Reddieweek2020. Following prompts for the week. You know the drill, Linda.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Reddie Week 2020





	1. DAY ONE - The Quarry

**Author's Note:**

> I've bullied myself into actually contributing to this fandom instead of just watching from the shadows. These assholes have been all I could think about for about a year now, so it's about time. When I saw @dibjosdelrio's post about this on Instagram, I thought "oh boy, here's my chance." Now I must ask you to go easy on me; I haven't written fanfiction since I was about twelve years old and I'm a little rusty.
> 
> PROMPT ONE - Kissing Bridge / The Quarry
> 
> I've chosen to do the Quarry.
> 
> TWS// nothing at all serious, but there's a small mention of drugs, character death, blood, and I guess a hint of suicidal thoughts? Better safe than sorry.

The house on Neibolt Street collapsed upon itself entirely.

Six of the surviving Losers stood in the middle of the road directly in front of it and watched the entire house completely disintegrate into the ground as if there was nothing there to hold it up in the first place. There was a well-deserved silence among the group.

Bill had a hand clamped over his arm, obviously sporting a gash of some kind. Mike had his hand on Bill’s other shoulder. It didn’t look like he had any injuries, but he had very noticeable tears of relief running down his face. Ben shared the same look of relief, though he kept his head bowed, staring into the concrete below them. Bev stood buried into Ben’s side, looking shell shocked. She was the dirtiest of all of them. Covered head to toe in dried blood as well as the general shit, piss, and sweat that they all were. Richie didn’t even want to think about what she’d had to endure. It must have been horrible. Then there was Eddie, holding Richie’s stupid leather jacket to his side, standing right beside Richie like he was simply too afraid to move any further away ever again. They’d all been through literal hell because of that dumb fucking clown. The house took one last hissed breath before the dust started to settle around them.

Richie looked away then. Looking for anything. Neighbours, police, cars, anything that signified that anyone else in Derry had heard or seen the house literally fall into the earth. The street was completely silent. Good riddance. This house was the picture of his every living nightmare. It was the place he’d found that missing poster that had haunted him every night for twenty-seven years, it was the place Eddie broke his arm, it was the place where a grotesque spider-head of his late best friend almost killed him only a couple hours earlier.

“Can we _please_ get cleaned off now?” Was, unsurprisingly, Eddie’s muttered plea, his voice was gritty, pained. They’d all cried and screamed more in one day than should be physically possible for people their age.

“Yeah. Yeah, we should leave.” Bill nodded, stepping back away from the house before managing to break eye contact. “A shower sounds great right now.”

“The Townhouse’s back across town,” Ben muttered. Always the sensible one. He wiped a hand across his face, never mind the fact that it didn’t really do much for him. “People will stare.” They all fell quiet at that. They hadn’t really thought about the possibilities of being found out. What were they even supposed to say?

“Do you guys remember the Quarry? It’s not too far from here.” Bev piped up, stepping out of Ben’s arms to get a better look at the group, she looked as though she’d only just remembered it existed herself. Richie felt Eddie prickle at his side, obviously not so fond of the suggestion.

“It’ll work. Until we get back.” Richie shrugged, looking down at himself. He’d been so worried about everyone else he’d forgotten to get a good look at himself. He was equally, if not more filthy than the rest of them. Mike started to walk first, off down the deadly silent street, his feet uneasy and hesitant. The rest of the group one by one give a parting glare to the hole in the ground before falling behind him slowly.

Standing on the ledge now, they all silently agreed that the Quarry didn’t look as fun as out had when they were children. What was once the equivalent of a pool trip to them, was now just a big dirty hole in the ground filled with murky water swimming with bacteria.

“Well, you don’t have to ask me twice.” Bev muttered, taking a running start and throwing herself into the Quarry. The rest of the group watched, suddenly reminded of standing just like this, a thousand years ago, as they watched the fiery redhead descend into the very same murky water. Maybe it really did look the same back then after all. They just hadn’t cared. Bill’s next, taking the same running start before letting out a yell, and cannonballing into the water. He’s followed by Mike, then Ben.

Richie stood over the ledge, looking at his friends swim around, the dirt of their clothing bleeding out into the water. He let out a shaky sigh, mentally preparing himself for the leap before Eddie walked over, standing directly beside him.

“Hey Richie, you wanna play loogie?” He had a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he finally dropped Richie’s bloody jacket onto the ground. He could tell it was so he wouldn’t ruin it in the water, but there was no way in hell Richie ever wanted it back. It could lay there forever for all that he cared.

“You know I’d let you win that on purpose, right?” Richie rolled his eyes, turning to look at the shorter boy. He could just about visualise how little Eddie had looked, stood here on the same ledge in his tighty-whities at thirteen, spitting down into the water as they worked up the same courage they were trying to now.

“Nuh-uh! You just sucked.” Eddie huffed, nudging Richie in his side playfully. Richie returned the shove a little harder, realising his mistake far too late as Eddie lost his footing and tipped over the side of the cliff.

“RICHIE!” Eddie screamed, grabbing onto his shirt to bring himself back up onto the ledge, but ended up pulling them both off instead, and in a moment they were submerged into the dirty water. When they resurfaced, the rest of the Losers were looking at them and shaking with laughter.

“Good to see you both still act like you’re thirteen.” Bev hummed, absentmindedly rubbing her arms in the water to remove the thickened blood.

“You asshole! I was gonna walk down. I’m gonna get an infection and- ew! Jesus, this water’s fucking brown!” The rest of the group cracked up again, rolling their eyes as they continued to wash off the worst of their grime. Richie and Eddie moved to sit in the shallower water.

“Calm down Eddie Spaghetti, its just water. It’s perfectly fine. There’s probably even fish in here.”

“Great. Fish pee _and_ E. coli.” He rolled his eyes but started to wash himself off too. Richie tried not to cringe as he saw the very red blood begin to rise off of Eddie’s side at the lathering.

He’d very narrowly missed IT’s claw, and Richie hadn’t been able to get the thought out of his head ever since he saw it. Eddie could have died. He could have _died_ , and Richie couldn’t figure out if he would have wanted to leave the Cavern if that had happened. He wouldn’t see a point. The thought tears through him so quickly he doesn’t even get the chance to really dwell on its implications before his brain reminds him about Stan once again. He had _actually_ died. Before Richie and the rest of the Losers even got the chance to meet him again. To find out who he’d become. He deserved to be sitting here with them, in this gross water, laughing and planning the rest of their lives. This time together. It all became far too much. He brought both shaking hands up to his face and tried to stifle the sob that ripped up his throat.

“Hey. Hey Rich, c’mon I was only kidding. There’s _probably_ not E. coli in the water.” He felt Eddie’s fingers slowly wrap around his forearm, silently encouraging him to remove his hands. He couldn't seem to stop crying though. He’d started now, and he’d just have to let it happen. Suddenly, he feels a lot more fingers and hands. The rest of the Losers crowd around them as they all, yet again, fall into a comfortable silence. They understood.

“Thank you… I don’t have my glasses on so I don’t know who you people are, but thank you.” Richie looked up, breaking the silence. He’d managed to somehow get his tears under control. They all chuckled and loosened their grip.

“No, I legit can’t find my glasses. I think they fell off when we jumped.” He sniffed, squinting into the murky water. The rest of the Losers seemed to get the message and spread out to look. Eddie stayed put, his hand still holding his arm, and suddenly Richie could very clearly feel the wedding band wrapped around his finger. He almost started to cry again.

“So, what now?” Eddie mumbled, meeting Richie’s eye.

“What do you mean ‘what now’? Don’t you have a wife to get back to?” He frowned, looking down at Eddie’s hand. Yup. The band was still there, shining where it was caught in the slowly setting sun.

“Oh yeah.” Eddie had mumbled, almost like he too had forgotten all about his wife at home. Their house. His job. “Fuck yeah, _that_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Richie I really don’t want to go back. Being here- with all of you- it’s reminded me of what a shitty life I have. God, I’ve always hated New York, ever since I was a kid. I can’t believe I forgot that. And- and I was gonna be a doctor- I was gonna help people, and now I’m this boss in a cushy office job, and all of my employees fucking hate me. God and then there’s _her_.” He took a deep breath, the kind that you can feel in your ribs. He needed to calm down before he had an actual asthma attack. “God Richie, she’s insane. Not as much as my mother was but- almost. She’s just like her. Jesus christ- what have I done with my fucking life.“ It was his turn to tear up now, pulling his free hand up to his face and covering his mouth in horror.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m a world hated asshole of a comedian who’s never been able to get over his internalised homophobia, and was last seen having a mental breakdown on stage at my Netflix filming. Fuck, the whole world probably thinks I’m back on drugs again.” He snorted, reaching to cup the hand Eddie had on his arm. It seemed to ground him as he pulled away from the hand on his mouth and let out a wet laugh.

“Fuck then. Aren’t we a pair.”

“You bet, Eds.” He stared off at his friends again, noticing how Bev and Ben hadn’t come up for air in a while. He smiled to himself then. At least someone was getting their shit together. “Look uh- I know we’ve only just met again but If you’re serious about leaving your wife and need somewhere to stay- I’ve got a free room in LA.” He shrugged, turning to look back at the red-faced man who looked taken aback.

“Are you serious? You’d really want me to stay with you?” He said it in a whisper of disbelief that made Richie let out yet another laugh, but he nodded in reassurance.

“But what if we all forget again? Like last time.”

“Can’t forget about me if you can’t get rid of me.”

“And I wouldn’t ever want to. Never again.” Eddie’s tone had switched at that, to one of deep sincerity that made Richie’s heart hurt a little bit. Reaching down, Eddie let the hand he had on the taller man's arm move down to cup his hand. He didn’t want to ever let go again.


	2. DAY TWO - Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, here's day two. Sorry it's late!
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who's already left me Kudos and comments! It really does validate me a lot. I appreciate it so much!!
> 
> Day Two - Confession/First Date
> 
> I'm doing the confession prompt. Also, this could be read as a continuation of the first part if wanted! The later works won't link up though. Enjoy!
> 
> TW// Non-graphic depiction of throwing up, internalised homophobia.
> 
> (PS- Can you tell I know nothing about anything regarding America? Especially not LA geography.)

It hadn't taken all that long for Eddie to move in with Richie in LA. He'd been adamant about getting there as soon as possible, still under the impression that if he didn't make it to Richie quick enough, they'd forget each other all over again. Richie had tiredly tried to ensure Eddie that there was no way they'd even get a chance to forget each other if they couldn't even go ten minutes without calling and texting. Nevertheless, Eddie had arrived on Richie's doorstep three weeks after they'd last seen each other.

"Eds! Glad you could make it. How was your flight?" Richie had beamed as soon as he'd pulled open the front door.

"Long and stressful." Eddie smiled, peeking behind Richie's tall figure and into the house. "So this is where the Trashmouth lives? That's impossible. It's too nice." 

Richie rolled his eyes and reached to grab Eddie's bags, holding them firmly as he lead him into the house and towards the guest room. "Take it all in, Eds. 'Everything the light touches is yours' and all that crap."

That night, Eddie had begun to come out of his shell. More so than he had in Derry. Finally starting to resemble the spitfire Richie had fallen so head over heels for as a kid. He was a ball of never-ending dialogue, stress and compassion. Of insults and swears, and Richie really couldn't get enough of it from then on.

Having someone else around made Richie want to pull his life back together. He'd started to kick his drinking habits, started to eat a bit healthier, and even unblocked his manager. His neat household turned into Kaspbrak-Clean which meant that, realistically, if he wanted to start licking up and down the floors, he could now do so with unwavering confidence.

Richie had even plucked up enough courage to call Patty Uris. After weeks of Bev begging him to, trying to explain to him that it could give him some closure about Stanley. He had, and it only took about five minutes of explaining to kindhearted Patty that he was just an old friend of her late husband's, and not a tricky telemarketer, before they'd sat down for just over three hours to talk.

"And then there was the time this bird flew down into our Clubhouse, sending us all into hysterics. After Stan got it out, he sat us all down and lectured us that we'd acted 'extremely inappropriately.' He was so mad, Pats, but god- the thing was coming towards me! I swear!" He sniffed out a chuckle that echoed on the other end of the line and wiped at his tired eyes. He'd moved to sit on his window seat somewhere around the two-hour mark. It overlooked the beach. It was a stunning sight; he'd have to admit. But ever since he'd returned home after Derry, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd become some shallow prick of a celebrity without even noticing it, and his Beach-house seemed to be no exception. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat and muttered, "I'd forgotten all about that." Then reached for the bottle of Kombucha he'd sat down. Eddie had suggested he started drinking it and had gone as far as to fill the entire fridge with bottles upon bottles of the stuff. Richie hadn't minded. It was just another wonderful reminder of how Eddie was very quickly settling into the house.

Patty often called now. She loved hearing about Stan's childhood antics. Sometimes Eddie would even join in, recalling events from his perspective. Those nights were always the best. Patty would often comment on how Stan would get confused when he tried to look deeper into his past, not being able to recall much of his life in Derry at all. Richie understood. He'd had the same issue up until not too long ago.

It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, however. Often there were nights like tonight where Eddie would be worked up from the stress of working from the guest bedroom and his many, many, phone calls between Myra and his Lawyer.

Richie was off to his first comeback show tonight.  His manager Steve had called him up about a month ago and explained it as "Low risk." In LA, so not far. He only have to take an Uber. "It's smaller than you're used to, but still pretty big for any comedian. They'll see if you can handle it, and if you start dry heaving or have another mental break- at least you don't cost us millions in tour revenue again." Richie had graciously accepted the opportunity and started very quickly working out a routine, this time, consisting of his  _ own _ jokes.

Knocking on Eddie's bedroom door, he hears the tired arguing before he can even get a foot in. "Listen, Marty, please." Eddie's voice is so calm and collected. Richie doesn't know how he manages it all the time. He'd heard firsthand how impossible Myra was on a good day, and it was apparent today wasn't one of those. "We've talked about this, remember? Now all I need from you is for you to sign the- Myra you _promised_ you'd have those done." He turned to Richie then with a sad expression, mouthing 'good luck' before turning back to his paperwork scattered out on the bed. Richie turns and leaves at that. His lift was there, and he didn't need any more reminders of Eddie's marriage. Of his wife. They'd see each other when he got home later, and he could sit down to help him calm down, but right now, all that he had to focus on was making a good impression in this show, or his career was guaranteed to be over.

After warming up the crowd for about an hour with commentary and jokes, the show was going surprisingly well. The audience had relaxed into Richie's stories and even seemed to be responding to his new jokes and style. He'd sat on the provided stool, speaking intimately to the audience about where he'd been for the last year. He'd gone off-book about an hour in, using this as a chance to riff and see if a more personable approach would work from now on.

"You know, obviously I've been AWOL for almost a year now, and I've been doing all that douchy self-discovery twenty-year-olds try to sell you.  So I met up with this group of friends I had when I lived in Maine as a kid. And man, I've got to tell you guys right off the bat. I turned out the worst of us all. I'm serious- they all looked like they'd just stepped off of Project Runway and there I was with these chunky glasses, scruffy face, and dad bod. "  He pauses to let himself chuckle along with the audience before continuing.

" Anyway yes, self-discovery is a funny little thing.  I'd assumed I'd already learnt everything there was to know about little old Richie Tozier. But no, it continues through your life. Like when you're a forty-year-old man who walks into a Chinese restaurant to find your childhood wet dream standing right there looking somehow even cuter than he had back in the 90s." He fights the burning shame rising from his stomach when he realises what he'd said. But he powers through; reminding himself that he could end the show whenever he wanted, so he starts to wrap things up frantically.

"Yeah, you heard that correctly- he. That's... The thing. I guess I forgot to mention that somewhere along the way, but it's been kind of hard to hide again ever since this asshole's come back into my life." He starts to really hate himself now for not following his original routine.  He needs to stop before he says too much.  "Anyway, with that piece of oversharing, I think I'll leave it there. Stay cool Los Angeles, and thanks so much for having me back. 

He makes it offstage, blocking out the applause as he narrowly misses a bin sitting in the dark corner before he's thrown up whatever he had in his stomach into it. After about a minute, a stagehand hesitantly taps him on the shoulder with a tissue, telling him someone was waiting for him in his dressing room. He nods and heads off, the thought of standing around anywhere long enough for people to start asking questions making him want to throw up yet again.

When he swings the door open, he's met with a painstakingly familiar face, the one he wanted to see least right now. "Eds? What are you doing here?" 

"I watched your show. Your manager helped me sort it out." He has his arms crossed over his body, a frown very prominent on his face.

"You... You watched the show?"

"The Losers couldn't be here, and when you left, you seemed upset, so- I decided to surprise you." Eddie mumbles, looking down at the ground, his brow furrowed the way it always did when he overthought. 

"Oh Jesus, well that's embarrassing then." He walks over to the dressing table in the corner surrounded by stage lights, and places his hands firmly onto the wood, hoping it grounded him enough not to do something stupid like cry. "What did you think of the sh-"

"Was it Bill? I feel like it's always Bill." Eddies voice is firm and demanding. He always seemed to know how to get right to the point.

Richie snorts out a laugh, turning to face him again with a bewildered expression. "No, it wasn't Bill. Well- I mean, there certainly was a point where I thought it could have been Bill because, hoo boy, those jean shorts did a lot for me back in the day." He's rambling nervously again, "But no. There was always just someone else on my mind."

"Jesus Richie I'm not going to play twenty questions here, fucking tell me. Mike? Ben?"

"You're an oblivious little asshole. Do you know that Eds? It's- It's _you_. It's always fucking been you." He lets out a shaky sigh and raises his hands in defeat. "Even when I couldn't remember you."

After a moment of stunned silence, Eddie speaks up again, starting to chuckle, "You could have just said that you know? We've been living with each other for almost half a year now."

"It wouldn't be fair. Invite you to stay with me then when you're trapped confess my undying love?" He scoffs, starting to wonder why Eddie hasn't gotten angry at him yet. This ruined everything.

"Jesus Richie do I have to fucking spell it out for you?! I've been head over heels for you since middle school. How could I not be?" He bites, cutting through the air with his hand.

"So you- you like me?" Richie hates how much he sounds like a high schooler, but he has to make sure he's understanding this correctly because it certainly wasn't making any sense right now.

"No. We aren't in high school.  I'm forty years old. I don't fucking 'like you'; I love you. I left my wife to move across the country and be with you. I was kinda starting to think it was obvious." He huffs, rolling his eyes.

Richie's heart hurts a little at that, but he manages to let out a choked laugh, "Yeah. Okay. I love you too."

At that, Richie's door swings open and Steve stands in the doorway. He didn't look surprised in the slightest. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got to go. Fans to meet. Shit to sign. It was nice to finally meet you, Eddie; I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot more of you."

Eddie hums with a nod, sticking his hands into his pockets. Richie rubs the back of his neck, well aware in that moment that he was probably the most awkward person on the planet, "I'll be back in an hour. You can stay if you want to, but I get it if you'd rather go home and-" Eddie rolls his eyes and steps forward to press a quick kiss to his lips. Richie only takes a few seconds to realise what's happening before he quickly returns the kiss. Richie's manager coughs, reminding them that he was still there. 

They separate, and Eddie squeezes his shoulder.  "I'll be right here."

Richie smiles bashfully at that and almost trips over his feet moving to follow behind his manager. So maybe tonight wasn't a total bust after all. He'd managed to  somewhat  savour his career, and score himself a boyfriend along the way. When he's arrived at the meet and greet he doesn't get bottled down the second he walks out the door, and it even seems like a lot of the faces he's scanned his eyes over were even accepting. Happy for him. He was so used to the cold shoulder of Hollywood and fame, stumbling drunk into a taxi only to return to his lonely far too big Beach-house. But tonight when he left the venue, he'd be able to do so hand in hand with the love of his life as they returned to their home.

Yeah, Richie was really starting to pull his life together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was extremely rushed, so I'm sorry about that, but I do have a lot of the remaining prompts already written, so hopefully, they'll be a lot better written. Anyway, thanks for reading and I'll see you all tomorrow! :)


End file.
